The side door from our home leads to my Grandpa’s garden. This sounds surprising when you consider that the last time Grandpa gardened was over 30 years ago and his garden was some 120 miles from our home. Nevertheless, our side door leads to his garden. Grandpa’s garden was one of my favorite places in the world. The garden was large and was filled with green beans, sweet corn, potatoes, tomatoes, and other vegetables. His was a practical garden with straight rows, remarkably few weeds, fertilized with composted manure from his chickens. Since he and Grandma survived the Depression, the focus was on providing food for the family. But he always had a row of gladiolas along the side for Grandma. He also had two of the largest apple trees I have ever seen. The last time I helped him pick, we harvested 33 bushels off of those trees. No poetic license, biblically speaking, with the amount…33 bushels. From just two trees. God is good. When I was maybe 5 or 6 years old, I started tagging along behind Grandpa when he was planting, pulling weeds, or harvesting. He was always kind and patient even though I was probably not really ‘helping.’ He was also firm and made sure that I learned there was a right way (and a wrong way!) to do these important tasks. For me, this was Eden before The Fall. The back door from Grandma’s kitchen led directly to the garden; there was a direct path from the warm, wonderful place of Grandma’s kitchen straight into Grandpa’s garden. Grandma always wanted a larger kitchen. Finally, when I was about 10 years old, she got it. When they expanded the kitchen, they took out the back door. You could still obviously get to the garden. You just had to go out of the kitchen, down a few steps, out the side door, and then walk to the back of the house to get to the garden. For me, this was sad. Grandma and Grandpa’s house was one of those places you never wanted to change. It was perfect, at least in the eyes of this young boy who admired his grandparents and loved being in their home This small change was one of those small, early indicators that the world was somehow not as it should be. I still miss that door. When we remodeled our home, Beth did the designing and made most of the decisions. I had just a few requests. The main one was to put a door out of my office and library that would lead directly across the yard, up the drive, through the gate, and into our garden. Our garden is coming along. We planted green beans, a few limas, egg plant, lots of tomatoes, and a few carrots. The groundhog enjoyed the carrots. Grandma’s glads did very well. Grandpa would not approve of some of the weeds and I know we missed harvesting some of the green beans, but I think he would appreciate the effort. Just behind the garden, we have planted a small orchard with about 11 apple trees and one cherry. No apples or cherries yet. Maybe we will get a few apples next year. Or the year after. We are a ways away from having 33 bushels. I am glad that our new door takes me there, to check on the progress of our garden and our orchard. Doors can be more than just barriers between rooms or a way to keep the bugs out and the dogs in. They can be entrances to other worlds. In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis, the Pevensie children enter Narnia by entering the door of an old wardrobe. At Grandma and Grandpa’s house, their back door took me straight into the Garden of Eden. And now our side door takes me back to Grandpa’s garden. Jesus tells us “I am the Door.” He died on the cross so that he would become our Door. Jesus did the hard part. We have the easy part…Walk through the Door and enter the Garden.